Hope Never Lasts Long
by May a Chance
Summary: The average life expectancy of the streets is seven years. Seven years of malnutrition and pain. By all means, a pair of runaway four year olds shouldn't have lasted a single year. They thought they were lucky, thought they had hope. But hope never lasts long.


Bitten as a pair of runaway children, no one had expected Ethan or Aiden Bishop to go far in life. They were expected to be the people at the checkout counter or to work at a dangerous factory where no one cared what happened to the employees or how they died.

They were expected to conform to the statistics of the streets that claimed that they wouldn't live past the age of eleven (as they had been four when abandoned on the streets), but the Bishop Brothers were extraordinarily lucky. The bite they had each received had changed them from tiny forms curled up together in corners to strengthened four-year-olds awaiting their next meal with trepidation.

Maybe not so lucky.

There was a problem in being werewolves, though. Especially werewolves living on the streets. Food.

From old families, some werewolves never had to worry for food; they grew up hunting each full moon and with enough accumulated wealth to bring them a long way. Bitten werewolves tended to have more trouble. They were often from poorer families in easier reach of the wolves from old families. They were those that no one particularly cared about, the ones willing to leave everything behind. An alpha bit to expand and strengthen their pack, not simply for the fun of it. A bitten werewolf was expected to become stronger quickly and pull their weight in the pack instantly.

And that wasn't always an option. It certainly wasn't for a pair of scrawny twins instantly demoted to the lowest of ranks in the pack. They were omegas, scapegoats.

They were expected to eat last, eat the least and the worst. Eating little wasn't as big of a deal for a beta no longer growing but for the young and growing twins, it was a problem. It was quickly that they grew malnourished from the lack of sufficient food. Quickly did their suddenly strengthened forms begin to whither.

By the age of six, they were skeletal scapegoats. Not one member of their pack cared. They didn't care that Aiden's ribs showed through his skin, only hidden by the bulky and warm sweatshirt he never seemed to take off. They didn't care that Ethan couldn't sleep at night without his brother, curled in to the other's arms like a puppy.

They had never been apart for more than ten minutes, the ten minutes in between their births.

Panic, fear, pain. Constants in a harsh life. Part of being an omega was accepting the punishments the pack through one's way in anger at a failed hunt. It was being willing to allow one's back to be torn to shreds each full moon. They were the ones threatened in anger, the ones cursed beneath a dark sky.

Ethen and Aiden accepted it like they were expected to. They played their role of scapegoats well, hiding away whenever possible and not protesting to the anger thrown their way. But as the pair grew, as did the anger. They'd been forced through harsh training like lions in the Coliseum. Lions, of course, from their blonde hair.

At the age of nine at a new school in Buhl, Idaho (they'd been kicked out of their last school in Hazelton, Idaho) people had begun to notice their strange mannerism. They noticed that they could withstand any toss thrown their way in PE class yet flinched away when someone nearby gave a wave. They noticed the way their shoulders constantly brushed and the quiet murmur that were their voices.

It wasn't only the mannerism that was noticed but their strange bodies, too. When changing from the warm sweatshirts they always wore to, their classmates noticed their thin forms and visible ribs beneath their sickly pale skin. Even their arms, normally hidden by sweatshirts, were unusually thin despite their strength. One in particular, Russ, had been particularly attuned to the twins' strange forms and mannerism.

When they'd arrived at school after being dropped off by a Beta by the name of Kelsey and being sternly (yet gently, thankfully) told to keep their marks up and to try not to get kicked out, it had been Russ who'd greeted them cheerfully and led the slightly confused pair to their classroom. It was plain as day to see that he pitied the twins.

Pity had not been something that Kelsey, Marcus, Tyler or Pearl would have appreciated. Pearl had been Alpha of the pack, ruling with a vice grip that did not fit her name. It was well-known amongst the pack that staying on the pale-haired women's good side was the best way to have a good life in the Ash Pack. From the very beginning, neither Ethan nor his older twin Aiden had been on her good side and, because of that, became the omegas. Marcus was the dark-haired first beat of the pack. He was the enforcer, the punisher in the pack, the one that brought Aiden before Pearl when he spent extra time helping _another_ study. The pack was all about power; helping another was simply not acceptable. It was also Marcus who roughly pulled Ethan from class and ordered the quieter twin to be rid of Russ.

And so they had.

"Why do you listen to them?" Russ had asked, clearly hurt by the twins' words.

An exchanged glance was all they had needed; "Because they look out for us like no one else ever has." Had been Aiden's words.

At first, Russ has tried to remain their friend but had slowly drifted away as both blocked him out and focused on the grades they were expected to achieve, the grades that could have gained them entrance to a top-notch college if they were several years older than they were. And while their grades remained high, their morale did not.

The next year, they switched schools and packs, hoping for a better life. Or more accurately, Pearl had kicked them out when she'd heard that Aiden had been beaten up by some playground bully when he could have defended himself. Then again, when it was Braden who had something against them. Again, again, again, they switched both packs and schools in search of a place they could call home. They worked their way through Idaho and Nevada, desperately trying to reach California where they heard of strong yet kind packs, something completely unheard of to both. They didn't ask for much, just a pack that didn't treat either like garbage beneath their feet and a school where they both could learn without the fear of making a mistake too big to correct in an instant.

That hope died along with the Hale Pack in Beacon Hills, California.

Hope never lasted long.


End file.
